


The Tales Never Told

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anders Being Anders, Custom Hawke, Dom Anders (Dragon Age), I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Some Plot, Tags May Change, There's A Tag For That
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: Varric was very thorough, if fanciful in his telling of the Tale of the Champion. He did leave plenty out, possibly for the best. Killian Hawke has a lot of stories left in him. This won't be entirely smut, and may eventually feature plenty more characters not mentioned yet. It will not necessarily be in chronological order as well. I like to imagine my Hawke is kind of scatterbrained and just recalls his life at different points.





	

Anders felt a little guilty, taking advantage of Killian’s hospitality. His uncle hadn’t asked many questions, thankfully, but seeing the small space Hawke had for his own made him regret asking for his help. It was probably nothing to be too concerned about, but a few templars had been sniffing around too close to his clinic for comfort, and with that in mind, he had thought to get away, at least for the night and see how the situation was in the morning. 

 

“You’re sure this is no problem?” he asked, for what must have been the twentieth time in the last hour. 

 

Killian laid out a second bedroll, shrugging. There was scarcely enough room to be called anything approaching a bedroom. Taking a seat on the floor, he stretched out, leaning against the wall. His eyes were on the wall, but he spoke to him, his voice lacking any hint of the gruff tones he saved for the foolish swarms who thought they could stand to him. It was warm, kind, all the things he hadn’t thought he would hear again. 

 

“Anders, you’ve been a great help to me. Putting you up in the luxury accommodations of my uncle seems less than the least I can do. The neighbors are friendly too, last week, a rat stole Carver’s bread, it was entertaining.” he said with a chuckle. 

 

Anders sat next to him, frowning as he looked around. He at least had a space he didn’t need to share, that was something. The walls were cracked, a small draft wafting in from some place he couldn’t pinpoint, and the smell. It was indescribable, thankfully, he had no desire to try and think up a proper description for the foul odor permeating the building. It was at least, a step up from where he usually slept, and safer than taking his chances with templars, anyway. Carver seemed to be out helping Aveline keep Kirkwall from falling apart, Gamlen was probably out trying to find trouble, and his mother was likely out looking for work, as usual. That left him in the unique position of being alone with Killian, a situation he had not once found himself in before. 

 

_ ‘Keep it together. It can’t be mage rights all the time, think of something Anders, think!’  _ he reprimanded himself mentally. 

 

He opened his mouth to speak, surprised into silence when he handed him something that might be considered a cup, if it didn’t look like it had been thoroughly crushed back into ingots. It was functional, but far from pleasant looking, and by the scent wafting from it, the ale was little better than local swill, but it was something. Anders grimaced, taking a drink, a slow breath leaking out when he managed to compose his expression again. 

 

“What’s the occasion?” he asked. 

 

“Does there need to be one?” Killian asked. “In that case, how about marking this as the first time I’ve ever had a guest over? Unless you count darkspawn. They have no manners. On the other hand, it was the first and only time I was ever encouraged to burn down a house? That was interesting.” 

 

Always with the jokes, it was fine for making a tense situation easier to handle, but this...this felt evasive, like he was trying to cover up something else. He noticed the strange tension in his muscles, the almost imperceptible distance between them, and the need for him to keep distractions at hand. Hawke wouldn’t open up about much of anything on his own, never did from what Carver had mentioned, the type that needed to be prodded to get results. 

 

“Hawke…” he murmured quietly. “Is this about Karl?” 

 

He hadn’t really meant anything by telling him what there had been between them, it was simply said because he wanted to be honest with him. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway, but this, he had an inkling of what the problem was. Hawke flicked a quick glance in his direction, staring into the ripples in his cup immediately after. 

 

“Why would he be troubling me? I don’t intend to get caught by any templar, and if you’ve noticed, I interact with quite a few and I’m not exactly locked in the Gallows. I cooperate where I don’t feel compromised, and in return, they look the other way. I don’t fear being put in a Circle or being made tranquil because I would sooner...Karl isn’t a problem.” he muttered, taking a deep drink. 

 

There were several possibilities to finish that statement. Either he would go down fighting, he would flee, if he could, or he would end his own life to avoid capture. He couldn’t see him as being weak enough to resort to blood magic or becoming an abomination of the sort they had killed before. 

 

“I didn’t mean the Tranquil part...I meant…” he tried to clarify. 

 

Hawke looked up suddenly, shaking his head. “I  _ know _ what you meant. It  _ isn’t _ a problem. I...don’t find myself attracted to women. Only that...I’ve never had a chance. You don’t have much time to form bonds when you’re outrunning a Blight, and since I’ve been here, I’ve been busy rising up in the underworld, apparently.” he paused, closing his eyes. “Don’t even mention the Blooming Rose. I’m not exactly desperate about my predicament.” 

 

So many things raced through his mind. Hawke was by no means unattractive, he had elegant features, the smoothest, long blonde locks he had ever seen, piercing eyes that almost seemed to glow. To say nothing of his...yes, his state of fitness. He had the most solid arms he had ever seen on a mage. It wasn’t like there had to be anything meaningful between them to help a friend, right? Then again, if he wasn’t even remotely attracted to him, it would just be awkward. That was also not accounting for the fact that they could lose their time alone at any moment. Justice wasn’t pleased at all either, not that he couldn’t simply ignore his complaints on the matter. 

 

“Why would I suggest you go there? I’d feel a bit strange having to treat you for that.” he said. Sliding a little closer, he offered a sympathetic glance. “I...could treat you for something else. Now, perhaps.” 

 

His lips curled up in a smirk, unable to hold back a deep laugh. Shaking his head, he swept his hair back. “I think I’ve been a bad influence on you, that almost sounded like an attempt at humor.” 

 

Anders wondered if that was his kind way of dismissing what he had said, until his hand awkwardly brushed against his, lingering for a moment before pulling away in a nervous way that was unlike him in every conceivable manner. The famed Killian Hawke, prince of the slums, practically, already well known for being quite funny or very serious. There was no room for awkwardness and uncertainty with him. 

 

“One thing…” he said, trying to decide on how to deal with a situation this unfamiliar. 

 

“I understand. I don’t mind leading if you prefer.” he offered, trying to answer what he thought might be the question. 

 

“Oh...that’s fine. I was...just going to ask if Merrill was right.” he said with a laugh. “About your grimoire. Whether you know any ‘interesting’ magic.” 

 

He actually had to think about it. Not about the magic, but deciding if it was a joke, or if he was seriously asking if he did or not. Maybe this would be a mistake, but how would he know if he didn’t try? There would be time enough to regret it later, he was sure. He pushed him back on the thin bedroll, staring down at him thoughtfully, a slight smile on his face. 

 

“Suppose you’ll have to wait and see for yourself, won’t you?” he teased


End file.
